


Mad Season

by jennytork



Series: Distaff AU [4]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Gen, Graphic Description, mature themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23939890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennytork/pseuds/jennytork
Summary: Why is a cop from Vice pushing so hard for Hutch to go undercover?
Series: Distaff AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717204
Kudos: 5





	Mad Season

Hutch bombed into the bullpen, flinging a manila folder in front of her startled partner without a word, her eyes snapping with anger.

“What’s this?” Starsky asked even as he opened it and scanned the contents. “…1977 tax returns… so?”

“So?” she spluttered. “ _So?!?_ So I can’t fill them _out!”_

Starsky blinked. “Of course you can, you helped me do _mine_ last week---“

 _“That’s_ not the problem!” She fished out the form and threw it onto the desk. ” _This_ is!” She tapped the form with a now-tapered forefinger.

One glance and Starsky understood the problem. “Oh, _hell.”_

“Yeah, oh, _hell!”_ Blowing the air out of her cheeks, Hutch sank into a chair. “There is no _way_ I can justifiably fill out records for _Ken_ Hutchinson! Not any more!”

Starsky leaned over and laid a hand on her forearm. “Hey… we’ll figure somethin’ out.” He smiled. “We always have before.”

“But Starsk, this is the _Federal Government._ I don’t want to go to jail for tax fraud!”

“It’s only fraud if you try to cheat. You’re not tryin’ to _cheat_ the Feds, you’re tryin’ to _pay_ them. That’s a huge difference.”

“Still,” Hutch heaved a sigh.

“Look,” Starsky said, pushing the paperwork toward her. “Just pay them. And try not to worry.”

Hutch tilted her head. “Just pay them. And what happens if I get audited, huh?”

At that moment, Dobey’s bellowed _”STARSKY! HUTCHINSON! MY OFFICE! NOW!”_ rang across the bullpen.

“Looks like tax troubles will have to wait,” Hutch grumbled as she followed Starsky into the office.

“What’s up, Cap’n?” Starsky asked as he helped himself to coffee as Hutch closed the door and sat down in front of the desk.

“Oh, yes,” a new voice all but purred. “Oh, she’ll be _perfect.”_

Two sets of blue eyes snapped to the man in jeans and a sweatshirt leaning on the windowsill. He had a triumphant grin on his face and his eyes raked Hutch’s form. “Perfect, _indeed.”_

Hutch squirmed, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. She got the distinct feeling she was being mentally undressed. “Uh…Captain?”

For his part, Starsky was glaring daggers at the newcomer. He’d crushed the paper cup and coffee had spilled all over his hand, but he didn’t even notice. He’d taken an instant and almost violent dislike to this man. “What the _hell_ is goin’ on, Cap’n?”

Dobey sighed. “This is Lieutenant Danvers, from Vice. And, as I told him, I agree to _nothing_ without your input.”

“Vice?” Starsky scowled. “We’re Homicide, not—“

“Starsk, your hand!” Hutch was on her feet and by his side in seconds, unfolding her handkerchief and blotting the coffee up.

Danvers nodded, filing this away. “Yes, but we need Homicide’s help. There’s been a rash of murders on the East side.”

“I read about those,” Hutch said, praying the crushed cup from Starsky’s fist and dropping it in the wastebasket. “Dancers and hookers.”

Starsky nodded, never looking away from Danvers. “Yeah, but I still don’t see how this ties in with us.”

“Simple,” Danvers smiled. “We need an inside woman.” His eyes resumed their leer of Hutch. “And it was recommended that Ms. Hutchinson be that decoy.”

“Not by me,” Dobey was quick to put in. “I disagreed with this.”

“Why her/me?” Starsky and Hutch asked together.

Danvers took a step towards Hutch. “Isn’t it obvious, Sergeant? You’re the prettiest detective in the entire department.”

As that statement hung in the air, Starsky stepped forward, his body between Danvers and Hutch. "What. Did. You. _Say?_ " he asked, his voice cold.

Danvers raised his hands. "Just callin' 'em like I see 'em," he tried to placate.

"Yeah?" It didn't work. If anything, it made Starsky madder. "Well, seems to me you've been callin' things _wrong_ here, bucko! That's my partner you've been _ogling_ since we walked in here!"

"Starsky...." Hutch began, jerking on his sleeve.

Starsky waved her off and moved forward again, till he was nose to nose with the stunned Vice cop. "Well let me tell you somethin', mister eyes! That is _more_ than the prettiest detective in the precinct! She is a _human being_!"

"Starsky!" Hutch's voice was more urgent now.

"And if you think, for one minute, I'm gonna let you get away with your pompous, arrogant--"

 _"Starsky!"_ shouted right in his ear.

 _"What?"_ he turned and heaved a sigh as he saw her face. "I'm goin' for a walk," he snarled as he headed for the door. "I can't stand to be breathin' the same air he is."

Dobey finally found his voice. "Starsky, I haven't dismissed you yet!"

 _"Tough!"_ Starsky called over his shoulder as he slammed the door.

Hutch shot them a helpless look as she ran after him.

Dobey sighed. "Great. Just great."

"Yes...." Danvers murmured. "Yes, she is...."

Dobey frowned at him, an uneasy feeling pricking his spine.

~~~~~~~

Hutch shoved open the door and bombed into the locker room. Dropping down onto the bench beside Starsky, she laid her hand on his arm. “Mind telling me what that was all about?”

Starsky whirled, his eyes huge in disbelief. “What the hell are _you_ doing in here?”

She folded her arms over her stomach and fixed him with a glare. “ _What?_ It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve followed you in here.”

“Y-Yeah, but y-you weren’t—“

Hutch rolled her eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! Starsky, will you _quit?”_

Starsky blinked, visibly startled. “Quit? Quit what?”

“Quit using _this_ —“she gestured at her body, “to change the subject! What was that in Dobey’s office about?”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t want you doin’ this.”

She frowned. “Now hold on, I haven’t said one way or the other yet!”

Starsky took one of her hands. “I can’t explain this, but I’ve got a real, _real_ bad feelin’ ‘bout this. I don’t like Danvers. I don’t trust him. My gut’s screamin’ at me he’s up to no good.”

Hutch studied her partner’s eyes. He truly believed what he was saying – she could read that in the azure depths.

Hutch took a deep breath. “Let’s go tell Danvers we need time to think on this. We need to talk more, that’s clear.”

Starsky studied her face, and then nodded.

To say Danvers wasn’t happy would have been a gross understatement. “We don’t have time to wait while you two putz around!” he bellowed. _“Lives_ are at stake here!”

Starsky opened his mouth, but Dobey beat him to it. “Danvers, they _said_ they would think about it. Now leave them be, and _let them think._ ”

Danvers’s eyes narrowed. _“Fine,”_ he growled, stabbing a finger toward Hutch. “But if there’s another death, it’ll be on _your_ head.” With that, he stormed out of Dobey’s office.

“Nice guy,” Starsky growled.

~~~~~~~

Starsky was awakened by an incessant pounding on his front door. He rolled over and groaned.

Six AM… on their day off….

“This had better be important,” he growled as he rolled out of bed.

The pounding grew more intense. “Starsky!” A woman’s voice rang out, shrill with distress. _“STAARSKYYY!”_

He froze, his eyes widening. All annoyance vanished like a switch was thrown, replaced with a cold worry. “Hutch?” Throwing on a robe, he raced to the door and flung it open.

Hutch stood there, her cerulean eyes huge and wild. Her breathing was ragged, and she was in her jogging outfit. Random strands had slipped from her loose braid and tumbled around her face willy-nilly.

“Hutch, what happened?” he asked as he pulled her inside and closed the door. He scanned her as he did so, looking for any sign of injury.

There was no visible injury, just that wild, terrified look in her eye and the trembles that wracked her body. She all but collapsed onto the couch, holding something close to her body.

He sat beside her, gently laying a hand on her back. “What is it, partner?” he asked softly.

In reply, she handed him what she held – the morning edition of the Bay City Voice. He took it and unfolded it – and everything suddenly became clear. “Oh, _shit_ ….” He whispered, seeing the headline.

_MURDERER STRIKES AGAIN – HOOKER FOUND DEAD_

Starsky turned back, just in time to hear Hutch’s whispered, “My fault… should’a done what he wanted….”

“Hey – _hey!!_ ” Starsky forced her chin up. “Look at me. _Listen_ to me! This was _not_ your fault. This wasn’t _anybody’s_ fault but the sicko!”

She shook her head gently. “If I’d have just gone undercover—“

“That might have been _you_.” Seeing he finally had her attention, he nodded. “He was a little _too_ eager for you to go undercover. I say we find this killer ourselves.”

Slowly, Hutch shook her head. “But it’s Vice’s case—“

“Danvers said it himself – he wanted _you_. You’re Homicide. That makes it _Homicide’s_ too. We’re just doin’ what he asked us to do.” He smiled his crooked smile. “ _Our_ way.”

At last, Hutch began to smile, too. “ _Our_ way. I like the sound of that.”

“Thought you might.” He petted her knee and stood up. “Let me get dressed, then I’ll drive you home so you can do the same.” 

"Then what?” she called to his back.

“Then we go talk to Dobey.” He paused in the doorway. “By the way, how’re your taxes coming?”

With a groan, she keeled over on the couch. “Still trying to figure it out.”

He smiled again. “You will. I know you will. Call Dobey and Huggy, huh?”

“Huggy? Info?” she called as the door closed.

“And breakfast!” he called back.

“Figures,” Hutch chuckled as she picked up the phone.

~~~~~~~

Starsky sat in Hutch’s apartment, looking over the paper while she changed. There was a distinctive rap on the door, and he smiled as he got up and opened it. “Tell me you brought breakfast!”

Huggy Bear laughed as he sauntered in. “Of course, of _course!_ When has The Bear ever let his main curly one down, huh?” He set several bags down and began unloading them. “Four Huggy Bear Breakfast _Especiales_ – sausage, eggs, French toast and fruit for Blondie, milk, and –“ he lifted out a thermos, “ _coffee!_ ”

By now, Starsky’s mouth was watering. “ _Four,_ Hug?”

“One for you, one for the beauteous blonde, one for me, and one for the Marshall.” The smile faded slightly. “He is on the way, yeah?”

Unlike with Danvers, there was no trace of outrage at his description of Hutch – this was Huggy Bear, after all. Starsky knew it was just Huggy being himself. He nodded. “We called him right after we got here.”

“Mm, that better be French toast that I smell!” Hutch called as she entered the kitchen, smiling. “Hi, Huggy.”

“Well, you look like a million bucks!” was Huggy’s enthusiastic assessment of her tasteful blue pantsuit and pale yellow blouse. He took her hands but did not kiss her cheek as he normally did his female friends, out of respect for her still adjusting. When she was ready, she’d let him know.

Hutch laughed and squeezed his hands before dropping them and turning to Starsky. “Could you help me out?”

He smiled and took the ribbon from her, motioning for her to turn around. He swiftly plaited her hair into a tight braid and was just securing it when there was a second knock on the door.

As they were both occupied, Huggy answered it. “You’re late, Marshall.”

Dobey scowled at him and he walked inside. “Brown, one of these days ---“

“Ooh, you’re gonna make me one’a your badges?” Huggy smiled and shook his head. “I already got several gigs goin….”

Dobey rolled his eyes and sighed. Looking toward Starsky and Hutch, who were busy partitioning the food, he asked, “I gather you saw the paper this morning?”

Hutch froze for a second, her face paling as she set down the plate of French toast. “Yeah,” she said, her voice shaky and soft. “We saw.”

Dobey nodded. “And I hope your partner pounded it into your thick skull that this was not your fault.”

Surprised, Hutch’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. Starsky chuckled and rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. “Tried to, at any rate,” he told Dobey.

“Well, it’s _not,_ ” Dobey said forcefully. “And you two have been unofficially assigned to the case.”

Hutch frowned. “Un-officially?” 

Dobey nodded. “I called Captain Hastings in Vice. There never _was_ an undercover operation headed by Danvers.” 

“I _knew_ it!” Starsky burst out. 

Hutch shook her head. “Then why was he so intent that I --“ 

“We don’t know – _yet_ ,” Dobey growled 

Huggy frowned. “Well, why ain’t you grabbed this guy and asked him?” 

“Nothing we’d love more, Brown,” Dobey sighed. “But we can’t do that.” 

“Why the hell not?” Huggy blew. “Cause sleazeball’s a _cop_?” 

“No. Because Danvers has gone missing.” 

With those words, the case took a decided turn for the strange. Breakfast was gulped down, Huggy was ordered to lock up, and the partners raced to the Torino they’d arrived in. 

Dobey watched from the window, a proud smile on his face. Huggy grinned and set to cleaning up the breakfast debris. 

“Take care o’each other, you two,” Huggy breathed. 

~~~~~~~

“What’ve you got?” Hutch asked as she sat down and handed her oddly pale partner some coffee.

“Somethin’ I don’t really wanna face,” he sighed, wiping his face.

Hutch frowned and looked over a file. “Wow… he was none too gentle with her, was he?”

Starsky shook his head. “That’s not it. We gotta find Danvers and _fast_.”

“How come it’s so urgent?”

“There’s been five murders. Five hookers dead. Every one was between five-seven and five-eleven. Every one had long blonde hair and blue eyes.”

Hutch studied the files. “Yes…”

“Hutch, how tall are you?”

Startled at what seemed like a change of subject, Hutch looked up at her partner. “Five-eight…why?”

For answer, Starsky flipped over five pictures. Every one of the victims, in happier times.

Hutch’s spine ran cold. “Starsky – _every one_ of them look….”

“Like _you_ ,” he whispered.

Her long braid swayed as she shook her head. “Well…this would explain why he wanted me to go under…”

“Only problem is, there wasn’t any undercover operation going on.” Starsky leaned forward, tapping a photograph. “Which begs the question – what was he _really_ up to?”

Her eyes widened. “You’re not suggesting that Danvers –“

“Hutch, these women look like you. He was very hot and heavy to _get_ you. He all but _threatened_ you, and then after a fifth murder, he _vanishes_.”

Hutch sighed and rubbed her aching forehead. “I don’t believe this… I do _not_ freakin’ believe this…. Okay, say Danvers is involved. What’s the motive?”

“I don’t know yet.” Starsky stood up. “But we’re gonna find out.”

~~~~~~~

Hutch walked down to Vice and smiled at the desk clerk. “Hi, Judy.”

“Hey, Kay,” came the reply. Since Hutch could no longer go by her given name of Ken, she’d chosen after Valentine’s Day to go by her initial. People automatically expanded it to ‘Kay’. “What’s going on?”

Hutch sat down and leaned forward slightly. “Think you can scrounge up an address for me?”

“Depends on whose it is,” Judy smiled.

“One of your detectives – Danvers.”

Judy nodded. “The two of you workin’ with him, then?”

“Something like that.”

She moved to her files and copied it onto a card. “Here you go, Kay. Bit unusual, though, isn’t it?”

Frowning, Hutch took the card. “Say what?”

Judy nodded at the card. “For Dobey to assign you to help him while he’s unreachable.”

Hutch blinked. “Unreachable?”

“He’s been on vacation for a few days now.”

Blue eyes widened and Hutch turned the card over and over in her hands. “Uhm….Judy…..would you mind if I took a peek at his file?”

Judy hesitated. “I’m not really supposed to… I’ve done enough by giving you his address….”

“All I want is to see his picture.”

At that, Judy’s tense shoulders lowered and she smiled. “Now _that_ I can do.” She lifted a spare ID badge from the file and handed it to Hutch.

Hutch studied it, her eyes narrowing in puzzled anger. It was the same man, there was no doubt about it.

Judy was a good friend, honest as the day was long. If she said Danvers was on vacation, then as far as she knew, he was on vacation!

But he’d been in Dobey’s office just the day before….haranguing them, furious….

What the hell was going _on_?

~~~~~~~

Starsky shut off the Torino and turned to his partner. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” Hutch said, her jaw set and her eyes blazing. “This is too strange for me. I have to know what he’s got for me –“

“For you?”

Hutch nodded. “This whole case has turned personal. How the hookers fit into it suddenly isn’t clear. Danvers wanted me. _Me. Why?_ Are they connected? How are they connected? Did Danvers kill those women? Where is he, why did he say he’s going on vacation when he was in Dobey’s office?” She let out a groan and leaned back in the seat. “Too damn many questions.”

“And not enough answers.” Starsky nodded. “All right – let’s go see if we can get some.”

The pair walked to Danvers’ apartment. Starsky knocked. “Danvers! Open up!”

No answer.

He pounded. “DANVERS! Open the door NOW!”

Nothing.

Drawing his gun, Starsky nodded to Hutch, who drew hers and flattened against the wall. Starsky tried the door, and found it locked. Taking a deep breath, he kicked the door in.

“GAH!” Hutch gagged, grabbing her handkerchief and holding it to her nose and mouth.

“Yeah,” Starsky gagged as well, stepping into the apartment and threw the windows open to try to air it out.

For her part, Hutch moved through the apartment, looking for anything – ready for anything. She cautiously opened the bedroom door.

“ _STARSKY!_ ” she called, whirling around and losing her meager lunch.

Starsky ran to her side, peering into the bedroom. “ _…holy…._ ”

Lieutenant Danvers from Bay City Vice lay on the bed. From the odor, he’d been dead for days.

Hutch climbed to her feet. “Shit – losin’ it like some rookie….”

Starsky rubbed her shoulder. “This’s enough to make _anyone_ lose it.”

She shook her head. “This case gets more and more bizarre. Let’s get out of here, call Dobey—“

“C’mon,” Starsky agreed and they left the apartment. Reaching the Torino, Starsky lifted the mic. “Central, this is Zebra-3. Patch me through to Dobey, will you?”

A moment later, Dobey’s voice barked, _“Starsky, where the hell are you?”_

“Nice to hear from you, too,” Starsky quipped, and Hutch shook her head.

Dobey barked, _“I’ve got Danvers in my office right now. You two get back here and get this thing hashed out once and for all!”_

Starsky and Hutch’s eyes met. “Repeat, Cap’n?” Starsky spluttered. “Danvers is in your office _now?_ ”

_“I’m sitting here looking at him!”_

“Roger, Cap’n, we’ll be right there.” He cut the connection. “All right, that’s _not_ possible….”

Hutch pointed at the apartment. “Well, _he_ sure as hell isn’t going anywhere!”

“Call the coroner,” Starsky said as he climbed into the Torino. “Stay here till they get here.”

“Wait! Where’re you…”

He turned the engine over. “I’m gonna find out once and for all what’s goin’ on.” He reached down to put the Torino in gear.

As the striped car peeled away from the curb, Hutch jumped headfirst into the window.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” Starsky gasped.

Grunting with effort, she turned around and got herself situated in the front seat. “You didn’t _honestly_ think I’d let you go _alone!_ ” She picked up the mic and called a coroner’s van to the address.

Starsky pointed the Torino toward Police Headquarters, grinning all the while.

_That’s my girl…._

~~~~~~~

The ride back to Headquarters was silent and tense. Possibilities kept swirling through both their heads, but they kept coming back to one indisputable fact.

The real Danvers was days dead.

And a fake was waiting for them in Dobey’s office.

Hutch broke the silence. “Do you think he’s the murderer?”

“Pretty safe bet. We’ll have to find out how he’s connected to the hooker killings, but I’m positive he’s the one who killed the real Danvers.” 

" _Proof,_ Sherlock?” Hutch asked, smacking him lightly on the arm as he stopped the Torino in front of Headquarters.

“Why else would he pretend to be him?”

Hutch rolled her eyes. “Something that’ll hold up in _court?_ ” At his look, she spread her hands. “Look, we can get him arrested on impersonating a police officer. But murder charges are gonna be harder to make stick.”

Starsky nodded. “We’ll get it.”

“I wish I had your confidence,” Hutch sighed as she got out of the car and they headed inside.

~~~~~~~

The pair walked into Dobey’s office grim-faced and without knocking. Sure enough, ‘Danvers’ was there with Dobey.

Before either of them could say a word, ‘Danvers’ got right to the point. “I guess you’ve seen there’s been another murder.” He was glaring at Hutch.

Hutch met his eyes unflinchingly. “Actually, there have been _two.”_

 _“Two?”_ Dobey gasped.

“Yes – the hooker….” She paused, eyes locked onto ‘Danvers’. “And Vice Lieutenant Danvers.”

“WHAT?” Dobey roared.

Starsky drew his gun as ‘Danvers’ moved. _“Try_ it.” The fake cop froze, moving his hands away from his body, and Starsky nodded in satisfaction as he combed him for weapons. “You’re under arrest, buddy – for impersonating an officer of the law.” He began to recite the Miranda rights.

Dobey leaned over the desk. “You better be _sure_ of this—“

“Is finding Danvers’ days-old corpse sure enough for you?” Hutch cut him off.

Dobey stared at her for a moment. “Find out who he is,” he growled. “Get to the bottom of this!”

“Aye, sir,” they chorused as Starsky shoved a disarmed felon out the door of Dobey’s office.

Dobey sank into his chair and put his face in his hands. “G-d, help me,” he groaned.

~~~~~~~

Hutch walked back down to Vice grim-faced. “Julia, is Captain Hastings in?”

The desk clerk frowned slightly. “He sure is, Kay. Is something wrong?”

“Yeah,” was Hutch’s simple answer as she walked to Hastings’ door and knocked smartly, once, before walking on in.

Hastings looked up, startled. “Detective Hutchinson!” he smiled. “Is there something I can do for you?”

She shook her head. “I’m the bearer of bad news, Captain.”

“B-bad news? What’s happened?”

“Starsky and I found the body of Lieutenant Danvers this morning. He’d been dead for days.”

Hastings’ eyes widened. “DEAD? DAYS? But he was here just this morning!”

“No, sir. There’s been a look-alike threatening me and we’re fairly sure he’s the one who murdered Danvers. The coroner and medical examiner are going over the scene now – Starsky’s with them.”

“Damn.” Hastings sat back in his chair, shaking his head. “I always thought Danvers was an arrogant, smug son-of-a-bitch – but nobody deserves that.”

Hutch sighed. “And we were wondering, Captain, if we could borrow the files on that string of hooker/dancer murders.”

Hastings began to frown. “You think there’s a connection?”

“I’d be very surprised if there wasn’t.”

Hastings nodded thoughtfully, then picked up his phone. “Julia, pull all the files on the recent hooker/dancer murder spree and give them to Detective Hutchinson.”

~~~~~~~

Hutch looked up as Starsky walked into the bullpen. “How’d it go?”

Starsky let out a sigh and dropped into the chair at his desk. “Cause of death – one bullet to the chest.”

“Caliber?”

“.38 special.” At the expression on Hutch’s face, Starsky asked, “What, you got something?”

“I think so.” She tapped the stack of files. “Consistencies.”

“Such as?”

“One bullet to the chest -- .38 special.”

Starsky leaned forward. “Any ties to Danvers?”

Hutch tilted her head toward the phone. “I’ve got Julia running Danvers’ cases, comparing them with the known IDs of the victims.”

And the phone rang.

Starsky and Hutch found themselves back in Hastings’ office a few moments later. Hutch sat down in front of the Vice captain’s desk, and Starsky made a bee-line for the coffeepot.

“You get it, you drink it black,” Hastings said. “I got no sugar or other junk.”

Hutch couldn’t resist the smile as Starsky came to sit down beside her, grousing all the way.

Hastings even smiled at Starsky’s antics. “You must keep Dobey in stitches.”

“You have _no_ idea,” Hutch chuckled, then sobered. “You said you had something for us?”

He nodded. “Report came from the coroner’s. That _was_ Danvers’ body.”

“Yeah, we know, they called us too.” Starsky sighed. “We need information on his cases and on who that idiot in the holding cell is!”

Hastings slid a folder toward him. “Ever watch the Patty Duke show?”

Starsky frowned. “What does that have to do –“

Hutch silenced him by laying a gentle hand on his arm. “Are you saying that’s a relative of Danvers’?”

“What, an identical twin?” Starsky asked.

“No, not a twin,” Hastings said. “A cousin. Their fathers were the identical twins.”

“So why did he kill—“ Starsky began.

“Look,” Hutch said, passing him the file. “Applied for admission to the Academy, but refused – twice – because of his rap sheet.”

Starsky whistled. “Assault….armed robbery….rape…..”

“No wonder he wasn’t admitted,” Hutch growled.

Hastings nodded. “Danvers turned up with pneumonia a few weeks ago. And all of a sudden he showed up much better and ready to go to work.”

“Which is where the fake Danvers took over,” Starsky nodded. “And when the real Danvers started to get better….”

“It threatened the imposter’s new life,” Hutch finished. “So to protect himself, he killed Danvers.”

Hastings nodded. “That’s what everything seems to point to.” He looked at Starsky. “And your hunches were right.”

“Oh?” Starsky and Hutch chorused.

Hastings lifted another folder. “This just came in – ballistics report on the gun that killed Danvers, the one that killed the victims, and the gun you took off the man in the cell.”

“And?” Starsky asked.

“They match.”

Starsky smiled at Hutch. “We got him. It’ll hold up in court.”

She nodded “We’ve got means for the women’s murders. We’ve got method. We’ve got opportunity. There’s just one thing we’re still missing.” She met her partner’s eyes and they said it in unison.

“Motive.”

~~~~~~~

Motive.

That word pounded in their brains until it was time to question Danvers. Hutch and Starsky would be watching through the mirror. Dobey didn’t think it would be a good idea for either of them to be actively involved in the questioning, since Hutch was the one he was threatening and Starsky was her partner.

So they watched while Hanson questioned Danvers, who had waived his right to having an attorney present. It turned out, that was his real last name.

Of course, he denied everything – until Hanson produced graphic photos of his victims. When he paled, Hanson tapped them. “They were raped before they were mur—“

“I didn’t rape them!” Danvers interrupted. “They were prostitutes– that’s their _job!_ ”

“Gotcha,” Starsky whispered.

Realizing he had just confessed, Danvers slumped in his chair.

Hanson leaned forward. “Why did you kill them?”

“I couldn’t have them telling _her_ that I was the one who would be her … It wasn’t time yet.”

“Would be her _what?_ ” Hanson pressed.

Danvers met his eyes. “Would be her disciple – I was going to learn from her.”

“Learn what?”

Danvers’ eyes went wide with disbelief. “Isn’t it obvious? Learn how to be a respected policeman! They said with my record, I could never be a cop – but _she_ has a record and _she's_ a cop!”

Hutch’s jaw lowered. “He’s talking about….b-but I don’t have a record!”

As if hearing her, Hanson asked, “Are you talking about Detective Hutchinson?”

“Yes!”

“Detective Hutchinson does not have a criminal record—“

He was cut off by Danvers’ bark of laughter. “Oh, come on! With _those_ looks? You can’t tell me she didn’t use to sell herself!”

Hutch shook her head. “Good _night,_ he’s _completely_ deluded….”

Hanson frowned. “So you’re saying that ‘undercover assignment’ was a ruse?”

“How else to get her back in her natural element? She would have taught me, and I would have rewarded her.”

The frown deepened. “Rewarded her how?”

“The way any prostitute is, man! Give ‘em the thing they live for – get _paid_ for!”

Hutch’s hand flew to her mouth as the bile began to rise.

Hanson pressed. “And after you’d learned all you could?”

Danvers cocked his head and replied in a very matter-of-fact tone, “Well, I couldn’t very well have her reveal me, could I?”

It was too much for Hutch. She threw herself away from the window and tore down the hallway. Flying into an empty interrogation room, she barely made it to her knees beside the wastebasket before she became violently ill.

Seconds later, a pair of strong arms encircled her waist and held her forehead as she heaved. Her hands reached up and braced against the leather-jacketed arms as dry heaves nearly folded her in two.

“I’ve got ya, partner,” Starsky whispered as he supported her. “I’ve got ya.” She felt the weight of his forehead press against her shoulderblade and the weariness in his voice. “It’s over…”

“No,” she sobbed, cursing the involuntary tears being ill had caused. “We…we’ve still g-got the trial…”

“And he’ll go to _jail,_ Kay. It’s _over.”_

 _Kay_. Used, she suspected, to jolt her to calmness.

It worked. She allowed herself to lean back against him, to borrow her partner’s strength until she could find her own. “I will never, _ever_ doubt your hunches again,” she sighed.

Ever so briefly, his arms tightened around her waist as he chuckled in her ear. “Of course you will – you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t!”

~~~~~~~

The door to the Venice Place apartment opened with enough force to set a plant or two swinging. Starsky entered behind a visibly fuming Hutch, spreading his hands. “What?” he asked.

A growl was his answer as she stormed toward the bedroom.

“Hutch, why are you so teed off?” he asked, wrestling the knot of his tie down a few inches to try to relieve the feeling of strangulation. “The case is closed. Danvers is going to the psych hospital – he’ll never see the light of day again!”

”I know!” she sighed as she turned to face him. “I know, and believe me, I am _so_ relieved that piece of garbage is off the street!”

Starsky shook his head. “Then I’m not seein’ the trouble.”

“You wouldn’t,” Hutch growled. “You’ve never had to deal with it.”

“Deal with what?” Starsky asked.

“THIS!” Hutch’s hand slapped against her skirt-encased thigh. “Looks good, but it’s drafty as hell!” And she stormed into the bedroom.

Starsky blinked after her for a second, then gave a low chuckle as he shook his head. He moved to her coffee table and picked up a manila envelope that had caught his eye.

“Internal Revenue Service?” he asked himself, and called, “Hey, Hutch?”

“Yeah!”

“Got the taxes done, huh?”

“Oh, crud!” Hutch emerged in sweats and a matching shirt, her hair loose. “I forgot to mail that on the way to court!”

He smiled at her. “It’s okay, I’ll drop it in the box on my way out. Decided to just bite the bullet, huh?”

She chuckled. “Nope. I’ve got a note in there from Doctor Laffoon – a copy of the one in Dobey’s files.

Starsky’s jaw dropped. “Oh, man! That’s _brilliant!_ ” He chuckled. “And it’s the absolute _truth_ to boot! No need to mention the radiation gun!”

“Yep!” she laughed. “Far as the government’s concerned, Ken Hutchinson became Kay Hutchinson by a sex-change operation!”

And both partners collapsed onto her couch, laughing until they were holding their sides and gasping for air.

***


End file.
